Achtung sie verlassen jetzt West Berlin, band-aid, Canada, Diana Schwenk, family, Germany, humour, Hump Day Chronicles, kissing bobos, love, memories, Mom had sex with Dad, Mother's Day, parents, scraped knee
…or should I say, thanks Mom for having sex with Dad?
But wait – I’m getting ahead of myself here…
A few days before Christmas back in ’38, little Margot was born in Germany to Ruth and Fritz. The first of six children born during, and post World War II, little Margot did not have an easy life. But my brother Michael and I are so glad she came to be; in spite of the gross and disturbing act she would later commit with Heinz.
I’ll get to that later.
In ’59 the not-so-little-anymore Margot married Heinz…
…and one year later they immigrated, or as we like to say in our family (ACHTUNG – SIE VERLASSEN JETZT WEST BERLIN) to Montreal, Quebec, Canada with twenty odd bucks in their pocket to start a new life as Canadians eh.
Below is what they looked like as Canadians.
Sometime in the spring, around May of ‘62, Margot had sex with Heinz and this somewhat disturbing act (at least to me, I’m sure they liked it alright) led to the birth of little Diana (me) on Valentine’s Day back in ’63.
Yup, that’s right, I’m a LOVE child!
Ever since that day Margot has been known as Mom, therefore she is qualified to be the beneficiary of Mother’s Day greetings. You would think Margot A.K.A Mom had learned her lesson. But no, she had sex with Heinz A.K.A Dad AGAIN in the fall, around September of ‘63! Doubly disturbing (both to Michael and I, I’m sure they liked it alright – why else would they do it AGAIN?!!) As a result, in June of ‘64 on a not-so-notable day, (as in not Valentine’s Day or Easter or even Groundhog Day) Michael was born, wrecking all possibilities for Diana to grow up in a pampered and spoiled way, like a princess who is continually catered to and pampered (oh I already said pampered – it’s still a raw subject for me)
Ohh-h but don’t you worry I got my revenge by giving Mom many a I-can’t-believe-anyone-in-their-right-mind-would-eat-that Mother’s Day breakfasts in bed and hordes of macaroni art. In later years my always-tough-you-can’t-get-me-to-break Dad couldn’t just stand by and witness these things anymore, so he began the annual hey-it’s-Mother’s Day-we’re-going-out-to-the-Chinese-restaurant-day tradition.
Anyway, what I really want to say is Happy Mother’s Day Mom!
Thanks for all the times you were there for us.
Thanks for every band-aid on every scraped knee.
For every bobo you kissed.
For teaching us how to clean our rooms every freakin’ Saturday over and over and over again until we got it right.
I love you!
~ HUMP DAY CHRONICLES ~
p.s. I googled kissing bobos as I wasn’t sure on the spelling
and it suggested kissing boobs
which I chose to totally disregard.